It never fails. No matter when I need to make a quick trip to the bathroom, my daughter decides all of a sudden that she has to go to. Then it’s a mad dash to get there. We have a guest bathroom but I just don’t like using it.
Mostly because my husband uses that one a lot and so does my 5 year-old. And our 2 cats eat in there so you have to dodge whatever cat food they knocked out of their bowl and onto the floor without it sticking to your bare feet. I guess cat food tastes better off the floor than from a bowl. What animals!
My husband has his own bathroom and the little hummingbird and I share one.
I don’t use the hubby’s bathroom because to be honest, ewww… boys. Walking into his bathroom is like walking on the set of Nightmare On Elm Street, where at any time Freddy Krueger could jump out of nowhere. His bathroom is clean-ish but scary at the same time. When I must walk in for emergency purposes, I swear the music from Psycho starts playing in my mind.
I’ll slowly open the door. His shower will be dripping. The smell of man pee starts to hit me. There will be an empty roll of toilet paper, just waiting to be changed. His sink will have hair all over from when he shaved that morning. And there will be a big ass ball of clumpy dried soap on the dispenser.
Am I the only one that actually cleans my soap dispenser just so that ball of goop doesn’t form?
But anyway, back to the hummingbird.
She’s not afraid to use his bathroom. So, I usually ask her to use his so I can use mine. But nope, the battle of the butts is what we usually resort to. Whoever gets their butt on the toilet first wins of course. I’m sure that’s quite a sight. We’ll run up the stairs side by side, giggling all the way up, and we drop trou as soon as we hit the bathroom door.
If she does win, and let’s face it, she is younger and faster, I’ll just wait until she’s done. The hummingbird always asks me why I don’t just go into the hubby’s bathroom and that’s when the Psycho music starts going around in my mind.
SCREECH, SCREECH, SCREECH, SCREECH.